


we make it work

by skelela



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:05:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skelela/pseuds/skelela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short drabble about the sole survivor and her chem-toting companion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we make it work

It was a sunny day out. Dusty blue skies, a light breeze, the occasional wispy cloud; The sort of weather Hancock usually loved. 

But today, the warmth of the sun on his face garnered nothing but an irritated growl.

"God damn motherfuckin' Deathclaws," Hancock grumbled, groggily shielding his eyes from the light. The Ghoul had been trying to sleep off the aftermath of a particularly challenging battle, in which both he and his companion had been forced to utilize a frankly ridiculous amount of chems to avoid being torn to shreds. Hancock could hold his Jet, of course, and he knew Amelia was no lightweight, but the two had finally seemed to meet their match.

"Morning, Hancock."

Speak of the devil.

Amelia's voice was low and ragged, but no less collected than usual. Hancock turned to look at her and immediately regretted the decision; she looked ten times better than he felt, and he couldn't help but feel a bit betrayed. Partners should suffer together, dammit!

Then again, for all he knew she could be dying inside. She'd always been good at hiding pain. The thought made him feel just a bit uncomfortable. He was the Mayor of Goodneighbor, for God's sake! She was making him look bad with all this strong-and-silent crap. And... well. He supposed he was worried, too. He liked to think she trusted him with her problems. But that was a much more vulnerable reasoning for the uncomfortable tightness in his chest, so he settled for indignance over concern.

He considered scowling, but his heart just wasn't in it; besides, Amelia wasn't even looking at him anymore. She was preoccupied with a crumpled up old magazine. Gragnar, or something. He shook his head slowly. She'd read that issue at least seventeen times by now.

He took the opportunity to give her a more thorough once-over. Greasy black hair, wild and tangled from weeks without a proper washing; that was normal. Slightly tense posture. Also normal. Her ridiculous Shroud outfit was looking extra disheveled, and her skin was unusually pale, but other than that she seemed... alright.

How that was possible, he had no clue. He's seen how many drugs she'd sent coursing through her body. By all rights, she should be huddled in the corner in a puddle of vomit.

But that just wasn't her style. He could respect that, even if he wasn't sure it was entirely human. The way she soaked up bullets and never seemed to sleep was almost unnerving.

He certainly hadn't known what he was getting himself into when he started traveling with her. Amelia had a way of finding the biggest trouble in the Commonwealth, annihilating it, then moving on without so much as a blink. He'd seen her do things no normal person should be able to do. Punch fully armored Raiders to death. Shrug off a swipe from a Supermutant. The woman was indisputably tough as nails.

Even now, slumped in a torn-up armchair and eagerly paging through a decades old comic book, her presence held a quiet sort of danger. It was the slightly tensed muscles of a panther that may or may not decide to attack; a wolf watching your camp with a wary gleam in his eye; a snake, hidden in the grass, willing to leave you alone but just as willing to sink its fangs into your ankles.

A shiver ran up his spine. Now this- this was his kind of dangerous.

Hancock dragged himself into a semi-upright position on the dirty old rug he'd been using as a bed, squinting in the gentle light. He slouched against the ruined wall and regarded Amelia with a groggy frown.

She must have heard him moving. Her slanted eyes met his unwaveringly, like they always did, and he was the first to look away, like he always was. The intensity of her gaze, however friendly it may be, made his stomach flip. Or maybe that was just the chems.

"Nngh. I feel like I'm about to go feral," He grunted roughly, laying his head back against the wall. A ghost of a smile appeared on Amelia's weary face. 

"You and me both, pal."

Hancock tried for a grin, but it came off as more of a grimace. 

"Get back to me once your skin sloughs off and you start leakin' radioactive sludge," He mumbled good-naturedly. She snorted.

"According to my Geiger counter, that day will be here soon enough. Have patience."

His cracked lips spread into a smile, and he closed his eyes. The pair fell into an easy sort of silence. Gunshots echoed from somewhere far away. Amelia turned a page.

Maybe today would be a good day, after all.


End file.
